


what is forever?

by sodelicate



Series: your voice in my dreams (soulmates AU) [6]
Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, Growing Up, Light Angst, Living Together, M/M, Romantic Soulmates, but really it's mostly fluff and feels, idc what canon says makoharu live together in this fic, mentioned asakisu and sourin, mild sexual references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-25 22:16:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19754851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodelicate/pseuds/sodelicate
Summary: “Within Makoto’s voice, Haruka hears traces of his own, and so he takes comfort in that sweet, familiar sound.”In which Makoto and Haruka change, grow and evolve over the years, but the one constant in the world they can seek refuge in is the voice ever-present in their dreams.





	what is forever?

**Author's Note:**

> well, looks like this AU is now a shared universe between Haikyuu!! and Free! and possibly even more (sports) anime to come :')
> 
> this fic planted its roots in my mind when my friend sent [this poem titled 'What is a Soul Mate?' by Emily Matthews](http://www.smiles4u.ca/poetry/pmsoulmt.htm) to our discord chat and the first pair that came to mind was MakoHaru, and then i just Had To Write This. i swapped the first 2 stanzas of the poem in the fic but everything else is adapted faithfully. enjoy!

_“If you have heard, within a voice_ _  
__the echoes of your own,”_

**Age: 4 – 11**

This is how the world works: the voice you occasionally hear in your dreams belongs to your soulmate. At least, that is what Nanase Haruka’s parents have told him. The moment you hear your soulmate’s voice, something in you will just _click,_ and your brain will go, _Oh, that is my soulmate._ It sounds like some kind of innate sense. Haruka thinks it is probably similar to how he innately just _knows_ what water feels like.

Haruka has known his soulmate pretty much his whole life. They started out as neighbours who have become friends because their parents are friends, and when you live in a sleepy one-horse town like Iwatobi there aren't many options. Haruka doesn't remember his first meeting with his soulmate, though his parents have shown him a photograph of him holding his mother’s hand and Makoto being carried by his mother, apparently depicting their fateful first meeting. Haruka doesn't remember it. He was just barely a year old at that time. 

There are other photos in the numerous albums collected over the years: birthday parties, first celebrating Haruka’s and then Makoto’s five months later; playing in the Tachibanas’ backyard; enjoying a picnic together on a grassy hill behind their houses; swimming together in a stream just on the outskirts of the neighbourhood. Haruka doesn't remember any of these, and he doubts Makoto does, either.

It is only when Haruka is four years old that it finally falls into place for him.

He is playing in the sandpit with a bunch of other neighbourhood kids. The scene is of a typical Saturday afternoon: birds chirping in the trees, parents standing by the side, chatting while keeping a watchful eye on their children, and a bunch of neighbourhood kids staking their claim on various spots in the pit. Haruka doesn't remember any of the kids’ names, save for Makoto’s, since he's the only one that matters to Haruka. 

Haruka squats down, his head bent to avoid the glare of the afternoon sun, and focuses on the sand. Just like the water, the sand is alive; all he does is mould it into something. And so, he lets the sand guide his hands freely. In no time, he has a fairly impressive mackerel-shaped tower. Perhaps if he had more sand, and if there weren't so many other kids occupying the pit, he could build a tower big enough for him to live in. That would be nice. He might invite Makoto to live with him, too. He likes Makoto. Makoto doesn't pry or snatch his toys or complain about how all Haruka wants to do is swim.

“Oh look, a bunny!” one of the girls squeals, pointing at some furry white mass half-hidden behind a shrub.

Immediately, all the kids’ heads perk up, Haruka’s included. They have the occasional stray cats and dogs around as well as no shortage of birds in the neighbourhood, but this is the first time a _bunny_ has been spotted.

“Ooh, where?”

“I wanna see!”

Excited, the children toss their shovels and pails aside, scramble in the sand before getting up and scampering after the bunny. 

Haruka isn't in as much of a hurry; trying to fight through the crowd just to catch a glimpse of the bunny would be a pain. Hence, he takes his time to put the final touches on his mackerel tower, then stands up too. He's about to follow after the others when he hears a loud _thump_ and “Ow!” behind him. 

Startled, he glances back—Makoto, sprawled helplessly on the sand, his eyes welling up with tears. 

Haruka bends down and stretches out his hand. “You okay?”

Makoto’s eyes widen, like he can't believe Haruka is doing this for him. The tears don't quite disappear, but a smile emerges where earlier his mouth formed a trembling line. Haruka tilts his head curiously; is this really something to get _that_ happy about? Makoto is so easy to please.

Makoto reaches up and slips his hand into Haruka’s, and Haruka pulls him up.

“Thanks, Haru-chan,” Makoto says shyly—and that's when it finally, _finally_ clicks for Haruka.

“You're my soulmate.”

Makoto nods, still shy. “And you're my soulmate, too.”

Oh, okay then. This is how soulmates work. This isn't quite like the fairytales Haruka’s mother has read to him—not like the princes and princesses and the mermaid who gave up her voice to walk on land (the most outrageous thing Haruka has ever heard), thus resulting in the prince she loved not recognising her as his soulmate—but he supposes real life isn't a fairytale. He doesn't want life to be a fairytale, anyway; he likes things the way they are now, with Makoto living just a few steps away, sitting side-by-side with Makoto in the sandpit as they build their own towers, swimming with Makoto in the river behind the neighbourhood shrine. Haruka is sure things like these don't happen in fairytales.

“Do you want to see the bunny?” Haruka asks.

Makoto shakes his head. “I want to stay here with Haru-chan. But if Haru-chan wants to see the bunny—”

“I don't.”

“Okay.”

And so, the years come and go, like a wave constantly meeting the shore before receding back into the sea in a rhythmic cycle. Some things stay the same, like Makoto’s voice in Haruka’s dreams. Since they spend nearly every waking moment with each other, Haruka inevitably ends up hearing his own voice blending with Makoto’s in his dreams. Oftentimes, the things he hears in his dreams are snippets of conversations shared during the day, or in the days that have already passed. 

However, it’s the nature of life that some things have to change too. Makoto himself is an example. The change has been so subtle Haruka barely noticed it, but looking back on it, he realises Makoto has been speaking a lot more now. From Haruka’s scant memories of when they were toddlers on the cusp of childhood, Makoto didn't talk all that much. Unlike Haruka, who simply saw no need for words, Makoto was too shy to speak up.

Now, though, Makoto’s voice is starting to sound louder, more confident in himself while still retaining a bit of his polite meekness. 

In fact, not only has he been speaking more, he has also been speaking _for_ Haruka. Lunch in school earlier that day is a good example. Mackerel was served, Haruka’s favourite, but the amount he had been given wasn't nearly enough. It really was a pain, having others try to estimate how much food would be enough for him. Next time, he should volunteer to serve the food himself when it’s mackerel day, so he could choose his own portion.

But having to ask for more would be a pain, too. Annoying questions would be asked, like _‘Why do you want more?’_ or _‘Are you sure you can finish that much mackerel on your own?’_ (The answer was, obviously, yes.)

Thankfully, Makoto swooped in to his rescue. “Ito-kun, I think Haru-chan wants more mackerel.”

And with no questions asked, Haruka got his mackerel. 

Makoto seems to have taken on the duty of answering any questions regarding why Haruka only swims free, too. It might have something to do with the fact that after the third time he was asked the same question, Haruka just glared at the offender and walked away to the pool, leaving Makoto behind to answer the pesky questions: _Free feels the most natural to Haru-chan._

 _When did this happen?_ Haruka wonders. 

Makoto’s voice is his safety. He fills in the silent gaps for Haruka so well it’s like he can read what Haruka wants to say. Sometimes, Makoto’s answers are even _better_ than what Haruka initially had in mind, like how freestyle came the most naturally to him. Previously, he had no idea _free_ was his most natural state in water—or, rather, he didn't think of it that way until Makoto put it into words for him.

It’s like Makoto knows him better than Haruka knows himself.

But instead of scaring him, it reassures Haruka; that someone else has the answers he doesn't, and he can rely on that someone to voice the answers for him.

Within Makoto’s voice, Haruka hears traces of his own, and so he takes comfort in that sweet, familiar sound.

* * *

_“if you found a smile_ _  
__that is the sweetest one you’ve known,”_

**Age: 13**

The thing about Makoto is that he is a perpetual smiler, unlike Haruka. He smiles at the fish and vegetable vendors they walk past on the old sandy road to school. He smiles at stray cats lingering around the shrine nestled between their homes. He smiles even at the noisiest, most aggravating people Haruka has had the greatest displeasure of associating with. One Shigino Kisumi is a good example. Somehow, Makoto is able to find it in himself to smile good-naturedly at Kisumi when he passes by their classroom, as well as entertain Kisumi’s whims of getting them to join the basketball team (not that it actually happens, though). 

Point is, Haruka has gotten so used to Makoto’s ever-present smile, it is practically a fixture in his life. Makoto smiles enough for the both of them, and he smiles enough to preserve all the balance in the universe. When his lips stretch upwards to meet the crinkles around his eyes, Haruka knows everything is as it should be in his world.

And that is why when Makoto’s smiles start becoming less frequent and more strained around the edges, Haruka knows something is distinctly _not right._ In fact, he has had this feeling ever since the two of them started middle school. It’s always the small things that accumulate over time to form something big, daunting and unavoidable, similar to how a single dust of snow rolling down a hill can garner into a gigantic snowball, hurtling down at breakneck speed towards its unsuspecting victims.

It begins with Makoto suddenly switching from _“boku”_ to _“ore”_ when referring to himself. Haruka, having used _“ore”_ for nearly as long as he can remember and thus not recalling when he himself had made the change, finds it jarring. He has a hard time associating the sweet, gentle smile of Makoto with the rough and rugged _“ore”_. To him, it is apparent that Makoto is trying too hard to change. Even in his dreams, he can hear Makoto occasionally slipping up and mixing up _“boku”_ and _“ore”_.

Rationally, Haruka knows ending up in different, though neighbouring, classes was neither of their faults. However, it does entail not seeing Makoto as often as he would like. Haruka tries convincing himself that it doesn't matter, it isn't like he is _codependent_ on Makoto and he still sees Makoto every day before school as well as after school at swim practice. But when Haruka watches some guy from Class Two push Makoto along the hallway, past Haruka’s classroom, and Makoto being unable to do much other than offer a quick smile, something in his chest drops to his stomach. 

“Haru?” Kisumi waves an annoying hand in front of his face. “What's wrong? Is the avocado not to your taste? You seemed to like it yesterday.”

Haruka inwardly grimaces at the memory of Kisumi feeding him his avocado and the ensuing odd looks from the girls in the classroom. “It was alright,” he mutters, avoiding Kisumi and Asahi’s inquisitive stares. Thankfully, Ikuya seems to be minding his own business. At least Haruka has someone on his side, even if that someone is glaring daggers at his _bento_ like it has done him a personal grievance.

Even at practice, the distinct feeling of something being _not right_ continues nagging at Haruka. During his leg of the practice relay, he struggles. The water refuses to accept him, and in his panic he fights against it instead of flowing along with it as he usually does. Pathetic.

All he can think of is the relay he swam with Makoto, Nagisa and Rin, Rin all the way in Australia, Rin leaving abruptly like he didn't care about what the four of them had, and how swimming this relay without Rin is as good as betraying the best relay team any of them could have had, especially now that they're not together anymore. Rin is all the way in another continent, Nagisa is a year younger and therefore stuck in the elementary school group, and there's just something _not right_ with Makoto.

The water is turbulent, impeding his every stroke and kick. It pushes back against him; all he can do is struggle his way through to meet the wall on the other side, where Makoto should be waiting to pull him out of the water.

Except Makoto isn't. While Asahi greets him with a “Good work, Haru!”, all Haruka can focus on is Makoto standing by the side in front of Nao-senpai, staring at the ground like it’ll give him an answer to a question Haruka didn't manage to catch while he was swimming. 

Makoto seems to sense Haruka’s eyes on him, because he glances up with a smile too wide to be believed. “Ah, Haru! Good job.” 

He takes a few hesitant steps to Haruka, but Haruka doesn't want this Makoto with the fake smile to help him out of the pool. He ignores the outstretched hand and clambers out on his own.

(Even without turning around, even without words, the hurt from Makoto is so palpable it threatens to close up Haruka’s throat too.)

Several nights later, Haruka hears Makoto mumbling, _“Of course I like swimming. I swim because I like it.”_ The lie is so obvious, it hurts him to even listen to it.

 _Why, Makoto?_ Haruka wants to ask. _Why are you forcing yourself to change?_

That's when Makoto begins avoiding him—not telling Haruka he has class duty in the morning, which is why they don't get to walk to school together one morning, half-assing his blocks when playing basketball during PE, hurriedly glancing away when passing by Haruka’s classroom during lunch. Every small thing stings, much to Haruka’s frustration. He doesn't need validation to live, but Makoto—he’s forcing himself to do something and to be someone he is not, and it's eating him alive inside.

Everything comes to a head when Haruka is returning home one evening from the nearby convenience store. His parents are away, so he has to prepare dinner for himself. 

He screeches to a halt when he spots Makoto in front of his door. Hastily, he tries to hide his bag of premade grilled mackerel behind his back, but Makoto is too sharp to have missed it.

“Haru, is that your dinner?” 

Haruka firmly avoids Makoto’s concerned look. He's so meddlesome; what a pain. “It’s none of your business,” he mutters.

“It is!” Makoto cries out. He hurries over to Haruka and grabs his arms, his grip tight with worry. “Haru, you haven't been eating the food I've been bringing over, have you? Your stamina was weak today, wasn't it? That's why you didn't do well during the race against Sano earlier. Why haven't you been eating properly?"

Haruka grits his teeth. Relentless question after relentless question—he can't deal with all this. He glares at Makoto’s large hands like a clamp around his arms, shifting his head left and right to avoid Makoto’s eyes at every turn.

“If you don't want to eat with me at my place, that's fine. But don't just say you're going to do something by yourself and then not take care of yourself—”

 _Hypocrite._

“Shut up!” he yells, flinging Makoto’s hands off him. “Everyone is just doing things on their own, aren't they?” 

Asahi and Ikuya are obviously preoccupied with their own issues, suddenly forgetting how to swim _free_ and big brother problems respectively; Rin is off in Australia on his own; Nagisa is alone in the elementary school group at the SC, and now Makoto…

“Haru—"

Haruka seizes Makoto’s arms, his hands not quite fitting around them unlike the clamp-like grip Makoto had on him just now. “What's with you, Makoto? You're just changing on your own without telling anyone. Looking at you now… it just hurts.” He can't bear to look at Makoto anymore, so he lowers his eyes to the floor beneath them, shimmering under the hazy streetlights with unshed tears. “What are you doing? Why are you forcing yourself to change?”

“Haru, I…” But Makoto’s voice falters.

Haruka raises his head. His eyes sting, and his throat tightens, but if he doesn't get the words out _now_ then he will have to forever hold his peace. “Makoto is Makoto! You're fine the way you are. You’ll always be Makoto to me, so don't… don't…”

A soft gasp escapes Makoto, like the dawning of the answer he was seeking has finally appeared. “I—I'm me.”

Embarrassment is now starting to creep up on Haruka. Wondering if he said too much, he ventures, “Makoto…?”

“Haru!” Makoto leans forward, so close, Haruka has to take a step back to avoid bashing their noses together. “Come with me!”

“Eh?”

But before Haruka can ask where they're going or why, Makoto grabs his hand, causing him to drop the stuff he bought, and drags him down the stone staircase two at a time. They dash through the old dusty road by the beach, climb over several fences, and sneak in through the back windows of the SC.

This is one of the few times Haruka doesn't have his jammers underneath his clothes, but with Makoto by his side staring at the water with starry eyes, it doesn't matter. They kick off their shoes and leap into the water, still dressed in their T-shirt and sweatshirt and shorts. They glide along the water’s surface in adjacent lanes, in opposite directions. 

Mid-glide, Makoto turns over and starts swimming towards Haruka, which Haruka takes as his cue to slip under the surface and meet Makoto. 

Just a few inches above the bottom of the pool, Haruka flips over so he's facing Makoto above him. Their eyes meet, soft emerald green on steely blue, before the green closes and crinkles form around the corners in a familiar smile. Warmth pools in Haruka’s chest. He knows that smile; he could recognise it with his eyes closed, in his sleep, on the other side of the world.

When Makoto stretches his arms downwards to Haruka, Haruka slips his hands into Makoto’s. With a strength he sometimes forgets Makoto possesses, Makoto pulls him up to the surface. 

No words are needed. They shift themselves, until their heads are resting on the lane markers and their bodies are parallel to each other.

Haruka turns his head, giving Makoto a look with an unspoken question hidden beneath it.

Makoto smiles, sheepish. “I thought I would surely change when I became a middle schooler. That's what I thought I wanted. But then, at some point, I just desperately felt like I _had_ to. And then… there was something Nao-senpai asked me."

"Nao-senpai?" Haruka echoes, surprised. 

"Yeah. He asked if I really liked swimming, or if I did it only because Haru was there."

There isn't much to say to that, so Haruka opts for a laconic, “I see.”

“I… I had never thought of anything like that before, so that was when I started doubting whether I truly liked swimming, or if I just wanted to be with Haru.”

“Was that why you were avoiding me?”

“It wasn't my intention, but when I was near you, I just felt even more confused," Makoto admits. "Being with you… it was painful. But of course, to you, it must have just seemed like I was avoiding you. I'm sorry, Haru.”

Haruka pauses, considers everything Makoto just revealed, and glances away. “It’s fine. I was at fault too. Did you find your answer, at least?”

Makoto chuckles. “I think it’s both, honestly.”

“Both?”

“Yeah. For a while, I wasn't all that confident in my feelings. I tried to force myself, but it’s not something you can force, y’know? But… right now, this is really fun.” Makoto gathers some water in his fist and squeezes it over his face. “Just swimming feels good. It’s true, I really do like swimming."

That's fair enough, Haruka believes. He can relate to that. 

"But it’s not just that—I want you to be there, too, Haru.”

_Wait, what?_

Haruka’s eyes widen. Come to think of it, he never asked Makoto _why_ he swam. Haruka himself has no real reason to swim—he just does since the water accepts him—and because he doesn't have one, he didn't think to ask Makoto if _he_ had one. He didn't see a need, since it wasn't any of his business, but now that Makoto is telling him all this… 

Makoto meets Haruka’s stunned gaze with a determined smile. He uprights himself, so he is standing before Haruka, and Haruka mirrors him.

“I love swimming, just like how I love Haru-chan, so I want to swim with you!” Makoto declares. And the smile that spreads easily, like a subconscious reflex rather than a conscious effort, is so radiant Haruka can't take his eyes off it. Makoto tilts his head to the side at the exact angle Haruka knows, like how he innately knows the way water feels. The corners of Makoto’s eyes crinkle with a familiar tenderness that Haruka, in this moment, has never been more sure is reserved for him and only him.

The warmth in Haruka’s chest travels up his neck and takes residence in his face. This is getting a bit much for him, so he turns his head to his side instead. “I told you to knock off the ‘chan’, didn't I?”

Makoto laughs. “Yeah, you did. Sorry.” 

“Also…” Haruka fixes his eyes on an arbitrary ripple in the pool, away from Makoto. Before he loses his nerve, he blurts out, “Of course we’d swim together. Obviously.” 

Still too embarrassed to look at Makoto, Haruka instead chances a peek at his reflection in the pool. Haruka didn't think it was possible, but Makoto’s smile stretches even wider than before. It’s dazzling, radiant, and perhaps if he had a pencil and sketchbook with him he would like to draw that smile. To preserve it, both in paper and in his soul.

Haruka feels like his face is just one Makoto-smile away from bursting into flames, and he hopes Makoto can't read minds. Clearing his throat, he mutters, “Let’s go, Makoto. I want a rematch at _Underwater Fighters._ ”

“Okay, but I'm gonna beat you again!”

* * *

_“if you have felt a touch_ _  
__that stirs the longings of your heart,”_

**Age: 14**

On a rainy spring evening with nothing better to do, Makoto invites Haru over for several rounds of video games. 

Something is off about Haru, though. While Makoto prides himself on his unrivalled skill at _Underwater Fighters,_ Haru is usually able to put up a better fight than this. Makoto has never blazed through Haru’s team of dolphins, ruggedly handsome mermen with bright green eyes and ugly-cute blowfish with this much ease. This has to be a record.

But when Makoto catches the look on Haru’s face—distant, vacant, like he's thinking of something that doesn't pertain to _Underwater Fighters_ (the sacrilege!)—all thoughts of bragging vanish. His top priority is, as always, Haru’s well-being.

“Haru, what's wrong?”

Because he knows Haru better than he knows himself, Makoto is expecting Haru to simply dodge the question and brush it off with his trademark curt “Nothing”. 

But when Haru places the controller down, fidgets on the bed and steadily avoids Makoto’s inquisitive gaze, Makoto’s curiosity is piqued. The fidgeting, the avoidance—Haru only acts like that when embarrassed. It’s cute, it is _really_ cute. A soft smile spreads across Makoto’s face the way cherry blossoms bloom on the first morning of spring, and so wrapped up in adoring Haru for being Haru, he almost doesn't catch Haru’s answer.

“… Kisumi.” Or, at least that's what it _sounds_ like. Haru’s lips barely move, so Makoto can't be sure of what he heard.

Makoto arches his eyebrows, puzzled. “Did Kisumi say something that bothered you?” It wouldn't be the first time. While Kisumi is a good guy and he generally means well, he has a tendency of rubbing Haru the wrong way.

Haru stiffens. He fiddles with the hem of Makoto’s shirt he's borrowing (in typical Haru fashion, he didn't bring a change of clothes after showering at Makoto’s place), a shade of red to give roses a run for their money dusts across his cheeks, before he finally blurts out, “Does Makoto want to kiss me?”

The roses migrate to Makoto’s cheeks. He fumbles with his nouns, trips over his verbs, and completely misses his pronouns in a valiant attempt to form a coherent response. While he has never outright _asked_ Haru about doing anything like that, he can't deny that he hasn't at least _thought_ of it, given that puberty has been turning Haru unfairly attractive—all lean muscles and defined jawline and a voice which seems to grow lower and more masculine with every week that passes. No matter how much saintly self-control Makoto has, he is still a teenaged boy with raging hormones and a soulmate who grows more and more alluring with each day that passes.

“I—I mean,” he hedges when he finally grabs his words by the scruff of their collars and forces them into organised sentences. “I wouldn't _mind_ it. But to bring it up so suddenly and out of nowhere… is there a reason for it?”

The inky roses blooming in Haru’s cheeks could rival Makoto’s in intensity. “Nothing.”

“C’mon, it’s not like you to bring something like this up out of nowhere. Was it Kisumi? Did he say something to you? Wait… were you saying ‘Kisumi’ or ‘kiss me’ just now?”

“No, I said ‘Kisumi’,” Haru grumbles with all the intent of ancient arcane curses hidden in those few syllables. “That nosy guy. He asked if we kissed before. When I told him no, he made it into such a big deal. He said he and Asahi have already tried ‘many things’ together before Asahi moved. When I told him Makoto and I were fine without this—this ‘kissing’ thing, he said you actually wanted to do it but didn't want to ask, and that every day I kept you waiting your heart broke into tinier and tinier pieces until all that was left was dust.”

Makoto suppresses a chuckle, not wanting Haru to get any grumpier. That certainly sounds like something Kisumi would say to tease Haru, but leave it to Haru to take it at face value. “Oh, it’s nothing like that. I mean,” he adds hastily when Haru spears him with a skeptical look, “I _have_ thought of it but not to the point where I, like, considered actually asking you. I didn't want to push you. Plus, I figured something like that would happen naturally on its own, y’know?”

Haru rolls his eyes. “That's wishy-washy. Typical Makoto.”

“Hey, that's bullying!” 

“But… Makoto,” Haru asks, his voice soft with concern, “was your heart really breaking?”

Makoto shakes his head, smiling. “I'm fine either way. I'm fine if you want to try kissing, and I'm fine if you'd rather stay like—like this. Not kissing. Just doing. This,” he finishes, somewhat lamely.

“Then…” Haru scoots closer to Makoto, the bed dipping under him. “If—if I want to… to try the—thing…?”

Forget a few buds of roses; Makoto has an entire garden blossoming in full force on a blistering summer afternoon. “It’s not like—I mean, I wouldn't say no.”

“Don't be wishy-washy, Makoto. I'm serious. Do you want to kiss me?”

Haru is so stoic most of the time, Makoto forgets how intense those blue eyes can be. That's right—the core of a flame, its hottest part, burns blue. Makoto swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“I… I do. Please?”

Haru snorts derisively. “I was the one who asked. You didn't have to say ‘please’.”

“But it’s only polite and— _mmph!"_

Before Makoto can complete his sentence, Haru jams his mouth against Makoto’s. Makoto can hardly call it a kiss, considering how clumsy and brief it is; just a rough bump before hastily pulling away. Haru stares at the green-and-white striped bedsheets underneath them in an endearingly obvious attempt to look like his usual cool self, but the red spreading from his cheekbones to the tips of his ears gives him away.

“Um, Haru,” Makoto ventures hesitantly. “I'm not sure if that was really a kiss…”

“Shut up. Bold of you to assume I know how to kiss.” Haru’s ears flush a deeper shade of red. “Kisumi offered to give me… _lessons."_

Makoto chuckles. In all honesty, he is more concerned about how Asahi would feel if he found out his soulmate was going around offering kissing ‘lessons’ to other guys, even if said ‘lessons’ were offered in jest. “I assume you didn't take him up on his offer?”

“I threw an avocado at his head.”

“Ah.” Makoto nods. “Well, I don't really know how to kiss, either. But I'm sure if we practise, we’ll get the hang of it!”

Haru eyes him suspiciously. “You just want a kiss, don't you?”

Makoto blushes harder. “Is there something wrong with that?”

Haru doesn't answer him. His eyes flicker down to Makoto’s lips, causing Makoto to squirm just a little. Haru shifts even closer, until their knees are pressed up against each other, and his hands ghost over Makoto’s shoulders. He is hesitating.

Makoto makes the first move this time. He lowers his head, pressing his lips against Haru’s surprisingly soft ones. Not sure what else to do, he leaves his mouth there. Haru doesn't budge. Belatedly, Makoto realises his hands are hanging limply by his side, like sad soggy noodles or something equally lame. He reaches up and grasps the sides of Haru’s face. It’s just a teeny bit warm against his palms, warm enough to make Makoto's heart swoop with satisfaction but not too hot to make him worry.

When Makoto experimentally lets his tongue dart out and flick against Haru’s mouth, Haru lets out a soft, distinctly un-Haru-like keen. New, unfamiliar confidence thrums through Makoto. Somehow, he's able to elicit this kind of reaction from the cool, unflappable Nanase Haruka. How else can he get Haru to unravel? Now going by instinct, he uses his thumb to gently coax Haru’s mouth open so he can slide his tongue in. Haru gasps and jerks, knocking their teeth together painfully. With a sharp cry, they wrench away from each other.

“Sorry," Haru mutters. "I was just surprised, that's all.”

“Ah, then I'm sorry too,” Makoto replies sheepishly. “Do you want to stop here? Or do you want to try again?”

Haru lets out a small, almost imperceptible sigh. “Well, you were the one who said we should practise.”

They try again and again and again. Soon enough, after several more sloppy kisses and clashing teeth and too much saliva, Makoto thinks they've finally got the hang of it. Now, kissing is actually starting to feel somewhat good. Haru’s deft hands—which started out hesitant but are growing more confident—skim over Makoto's shoulders, down his chest, and reach around to clutch his back, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. And each time his body shifts to press itself harder against Makoto’s hands, with every delicate teasing of his tongue in Makoto’s mouth, the fire reaches new temperatures. 

In hindsight when he is older and more experienced, Makoto will call his fourteen-year-old self silly, but now all he can think of is _Haru, Haru, I want Haru-chan._ He wants Haru by his side on his bed, experimenting with physical intimacy like the awkward and inexperienced adolescents they are. He wants to know what every inch of Haru's skin feels like—if it's as soft and warm as his face—and he wants Haru's hands, strong and skillful, all over him. He wants to get familiar with Haru's body the way he is familiar with his mind and heart. 

But more than that, he also wants Haru to continue swimming and playing _Underwater Fighters_ with him (and losing in the latter each time); he wants Haru over for sleepovers when summer nights get too stiflingly hot or winter nights too freezing cold to sleep through on his own, on two tiny futons they are starting to outgrow; he wants Haru to grumble under his breath whenever Makoto adjusts his _gakuran_ collar for him because no matter how long Haru has worn his middle school uniform, he will stubbornly never learn how to fasten his collar properly.

Makoto wants Haru by his side, forever, and then the forever after that, and the forever after that one too.

Makoto pulls away from the kiss, leans his forehead against Haru’s and whispers, “I love you, Haru-chan.”

Instead of replying, Haru tilts his head and presses a sweet kiss to Makoto’s cheek, and Makoto knows everything Haru doesn't say.

_I love you too._

* * *

_“and still can feel that closeness_ _  
__in the moments you're apart,"_

**Age: 17.5**

Even nearly half an hour after their first ever fight, Makoto can still see the Haru’s betrayed look when Makoto told him he’s going to university in Tokyo, as well as hear the lingering echoes of Haru’s shout, shaking and choked up.

_“Do whatever you want!”_

Makoto feels a little better after talking to Rin on the phone about the fight; about Haru’s firm aversion to even thinking of his future, and how Haru absolutely refuses to see he's not okay without a dream to strive towards. 

The thing is, Makoto _knows._ He knows what it’s like to be uncertain of what the future holds for him. That was why he challenged Haru to the 200-meter _free_ race during the prefectural tournament—partly because he wanted to see for himself if competitive swimming was the path he's meant to embark on. And when he lost, he knew it was not for him. 

But he also knows how joyous and fulfilling it is when you finally find a dream you want to aim for, and all he wants is for Haru to find that same joy and fulfillment.

_There's no freedom in standing still, frozen and watching the world pass you by, Haru._

Well, it isn't in his hands anymore. Rin claimed to have a plan to help Haru find his dream, or at least kickstart the process, so Makoto leaves it to him. Quietly, Makoto pockets his phone and returns home. 

The road back home is too wide. That's right; practically every time he walks this path, it is with Haru. Even with his few words and quiet gestures, Haru has always managed to fill the space beside Makoto.

Makoto wonders if the roads he will walk in the future will feel this big and empty. He wonders about the voice in his dreams—what will he hear at night, one year down the road? Three years? Five years?

Above all, he wonders about Haru. If he is okay. If he made it back home safe—if he even is at home. If he remembered to take a shower before going to bed.

Makoto pauses at the base of the stone staircase leading to Haru’s home. None of the lights are switched on, but he knows Haru doesn't like using any of them if he can help it. He would cook mackerel in the dark if Makoto let him. 

Haru is probably at home. Makoto could reach out, ring his doorbell and ask if they can talk about what happened earlier. It would be so easy—all he would have to do is climb another flight of stairs.

But ultimately, Makoto decides against it. If you love someone, sometimes you have to let them go and find the answers themselves, instead of always speaking on their behalf.

Instead, Makoto turns right and enters his own home. 

Thankfully, the twins seem to be asleep already. That's good; they are unnervingly good at deciphering when Makoto is not okay, and he doesn't know how he would explain this fight to them.

His parents are in the kitchen, washing the dishes and singing renditions of 80's pop together. They smile and wave to him, which he returns with a wave of his own. They don't ask him any questions, even though he’s one hundred percent sure they know something happened, for which he is grateful. Quietly, he takes the stairs up to his room and all but collapses on his bed, falling asleep almost immediately. 

And of course, he hears himself and Haru in his dream that night. Echoes of the fight, replayed over and over again, mixing with pained muffled sobs. Haru… did he _cry_ himself to sleep? The very idea pains Makoto so terribly he wakes up, and he tosses and turns for at least two hours before falling back into a fitful sleep. 

The next day, Makoto finds out from Gou that Rin has taken Haru to _Australia_ of all places. The sheer ridiculous audacity of Rin elicits a fond chuckle from Makoto. It _is_ outlandish, but he supposes that if it's what Rin thinks is best for Haru then Makoto ought to trust him.

Once more, Makoto walks home alone after school. Though the road still feels too large for comfort, it doesn't feel as achingly lonely, somehow. Maybe it’s because he knows that whatever Haru is up to in Australia, he’s seeing a sight he has never seen before, and that sight will change him. The thought puts a smile on his face. He hopes Haru had a safe flight, he didn't forget anything, and he and Rin are safe and sound. 

After greeting his energetic siblings and gently chasing them back to their room to do their homework, he heads to his own room, dumps his bag on the floor and flops onto his bed.

Too tired to even contemplate doing _his_ homework, he instead absentmindedly runs his fingers along the green-and-white striped bedsheets. With a start, he remembers these were the same sheets fitted on his bed when he and Haru had their first kiss. They're now faded and worn with age, but it is definitely the same one. He chuckles at the memory. Over the years, they have gotten better at kissing, thankfully, and the memory of their first awkward attempt is one he looks back on with amused fondness.

In fact, many of his things in his room have Haru written all over them. The desk—Haru has spent hours upon hours sitting around it with Makoto, heads bent low over their homework. Both of them struggle with English, so any attempts at tutoring the other inevitably end up in disaster and bright red crosses all over their worksheets. His gaming consoles have been marked with over a decade's worth of Haru’s fingerprints, from sweltering summer evenings and rainy autumn afternoons and snowy winter nights of playing all three versions of _Underwater Fighters._

Even his siblings have been impacted by the silent, stoic heart of gold known as Haru. Ren’s sketches are starting to have discernible shades of Haru’s style, and Ran seems to have taken after Haru’s straightforward manner of speaking exactly what is on his mind, with no fancy trimmings or embellishments whatsoever.

Haru has become such a huge, irreplaceable fixture in Makoto’s life that Makoto is sure wherever the future takes the two of them, their paths _will_ be intertwined somewhere, somehow. The thought acts as a soothing balm, closing up the wounds from yesterday's fight. 

If he closes his eyes, he can picture Haru and his warmth by his side. Haru, lean and supple to Makoto’s broad and rugged, would slot himself perfectly in Makoto’s arms, like they're two pieces in a puzzle that can fit in each other and only each other. Underneath Makoto’s roaming hands, Haru’s body would be pliant and accommodating, arching to press more of himself into Makoto’s hold. Haru’s blue eyes would pierce right through the darkness and into the depths of Makoto’s soul; they would see him for all he is, and they would quietly accept and love him. 

If there is one truth in this universe Makoto is sure of, it’s this, because he knows he looks at Haru the exact same way.

In those blue eyes which quietly love Makoto for being Makoto, there lies something unknown and undiscovered to even Haru himself. Makoto wants him to find it, then hold it close to his heart that protects Makoto’s, and never let it go. 

However, Makoto knows he isn't the one who can help Haru find it—he knows he isn't the one who pushes Haru like that. That person is Rin, full of fiery passion and guts and determination to carve his place in the world of swimming, and to bring all whom he deems worthy along with him; Makoto’s role in Haru’s life is to be with him every step of the path which he will eventually embark on, whatever that may be.

And so, in Iwatobi, Japan, Makoto waits with patience and love for Haru to return home from Australia—because you can put an ocean between their love but it won't keep them apart. 

* * *

_“if you have filled with wonder_  
 _at the way two lives can blend_  
 _to weave a pattern_ _  
that is seamless, end to end,”_

**Age: 18.5**

Makoto wonders if he knew, seven years ago, that his friendship with one Matsuoka Rin would involve said Matsuoka Rin dropping by his home without prior announcement to complain about former roommates, laugh at his childhood photos, and wax poetic about romance to him.

“Yo, Makoto.”

“Rin!” Makoto exclaims, at the same time Ran and Ren shout, “Shark-sama!”

“Oi, you don't have to call me that anymore,” Rin grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. Dressed in an oversized black coat that probably belongs to Sousuke, a red flannel peeking out from underneath it, and ripped skinny jeans, Makoto would have guessed he was either going on a date or to Australia if not for the fact that he is currently standing before Makoto’s front door.

“But you're the king of the sharks!” Ran points out with her infallible eight-year-old logic.

“We still have the crown,” Ren adds helpfully. He's probably referring to the cardboard crown he and Haru made for Rin the last time he came over to personally deliver a sample training menu and consequently got roped into playing with the twins.

“Anyway, Rin,” Makoto hastily speaks over his siblings before they manage to annoy Rin into leaving, “not that I'm not happy to see you, but what brings you here?”

“You're going to Tokyo tomorrow to look at apartments, aren't you? Thought I’d drop by and see if you needed help with anything. Do you have any particular place in mind?”

Makoto smiles and shakes his head, sheepish. “Not really. I just figured I’d start with what the realtor offered me, then go from there.”

Rin rolls his head. “You never change, do you? Lucky for you, I know some websites you can take a look at, if you'd like. I bookmarked them, since I figured you and especially Haru might need help deciding on a place to stay.”

“You're too kind, Rin,” Makoto says, which Rin graces with a snort. He moves aside and holds the door open. “Here, why don't you come in? It must be cold outside.”

“Thanks.” Rin steps in and shrugs off his coat, and Makoto closes the door behind him.

He leads Rin to the living room, which is—as always—in a state of comfortable mess, with the twins’ toys and books strewn over the floor, several photo albums open on the coffee table, and a pile of clothes spilling just a little out of the laundry basket by the TV. It’s still switched on and playing Ren’s favourite cartoon, though Ren himself is presently not watching it but is instead fighting with Ran over the last Jenga block.

“Is your home always like this?” Rin mutters, looking mildly uncomfortable. As a neat freak, this place must resemble his worst nightmares. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Makoto replies with a laugh. “It’s mostly Ran and Ren’s stuff.”

“Jeez, those two could give Ai a run for his money. Did you know he still keeps his _umbilical cord_ in a leather box? Who the hell keeps their umbilical cord and _brings it to their high school dorm?_ ”

Makoto thinks there's something endearing about Rin’s affection for Nitori, poorly hidden under layers of exasperation and irritation. “I assume Sousuke is a tidier roommate, then? Oh, speaking of which, don't you normally spend your Friday nights with him?”

“Ah, we had a disagreement, so we’re giving each other some space to cool down,” Rin says with a wave of his hand. Upon spotting Makoto’s concerned look, he adds with a roll of his eyes, “Hey, even soulmates need some space from each other, y’know? Though I suppose you and Haru probably have no concept of that.”

Makoto chuckles. “Yeah, you might be right. It’s gonna be weird, though, not going to the same university as Haru, after having attended the same schools our whole lives.”

“That doesn't have to change anything, and you know that, right? This is proof.” Rin picks up a photo album, settles on the sofa like it’s his, and skims through the pages. “Jeez, Haru’s in, like, over half of these. What did you bribe him with to get him to stay still for the camera?”

“I have a pretty strong grip,” Makoto says lightly. 

He sits down beside Rin and peers over his shoulder at the photographs pasted on the pages. He recognises some of them, like the ones of him and Haru standing in front of a shrine in Kyoto, where their parents took them one summer. But there are others, like the ones of him and Haru—each of them barely over a year old—sitting on their mothers’ laps in a garden that he doesn't recall. 

“Heh, Haru was so cute. Look at him.” Makoto points at the photo of Haru scowling at the camera, his blue T-shirt stained with chocolate ice cream Makoto accidentally spilled on him. 

“Oh my god, you two even took baths together?” Rin chortles. He points at a photograph of tiny Makoto and Haru naked in Haru’s bathtub, with the only shred of decency being the tiny washcloths covering their private areas. Makoto was looking bashfully away from the camera, while Haru was too engrossed in playing with his toy dolphin to even notice. 

Makoto’s neck suddenly feels too hot for it to be spring, even in the warmth of his home. “I don't know what it is with parents and taking photos of their kids in the bath,” he moans, burying his face in his hands.

The sharpness of Rin’s grin would terrify even the most predatory of sharks. He whips out his phone. “I'm taking a picture of this to bully Haru with. Don't worry, I won't include you in it,” he adds hastily, spotting the redness in Makoto’s face.

Makoto isn't sure if Haru would be all that bothered by someone having a nude baby photo of him, but if it’s Rin then he supposes Haru would at least be mildly annoyed, by simple virtue that it is _Rin._

Rin continues flipping through the pages, breaking the companionable silence to make a wry comment about their fashion choices or the background, and Makoto chuckles. It’s nice, going down the memory lane like this. He doesn't do it too often, since Haru isn't the nostalgic type.

Rin’s hand pauses and hovers over a page. Curious, Makoto peeks over his arm, and spots the photo of himself, Rin, Haru and Nagisa posing in front of the pool after winning their medley relay. On its right is a photograph of the cherry blossom tree outside their elementary school and the bricks stacked under it which they had written on as part of their class's graduation project. They're lined up to form a message: _'I swim best free for the team.'_

“Oh yeah, Coach Sasabe helped to scan and print a copy for me,” Makoto explains, pointing at the photo on the left. “It’s his way of thanking me for helping him out at Iwatobi SC Returns.”

For the first time since Rin appeared at Makoto’s porch, he doesn't have anything to say. He just gazes at the photo, his expression soft with fondness, and traces a finger over the glossy surface lovingly, like it’s a treasure he thought he would never get to see again. To Makoto’s not-surprise, Rin’s eyes are starting to become unusually bright. Not saying a word, he grabs a piece of tissue and hands it to him. Rin wrenches it out of his hand, turns his head away and wipes his eyes with furious vigour.

“I'm not crying,” he chokes out between quiet sobs and hiccups. "It's just that—I lost these photos while I was moving back and forth from Japan to Australia. I never thought I'd see them again."

“Okay,” Makoto says mildly. “You can keep them if you'd like. You can bring them to Australia with you.”

Rin whips his head around to face Makoto. His eyes are tinged red. “But—they're yours—I can't possibly—”

“I can always ask Coach Sasabe to scan another copy of our relay photo for me. And Haru has a photo of the cherry blossom tree, so if I ever want to look at it I'll just drop by his place or something. It’s no big deal.”

Rin doesn't say anything. He sniffs into his tissue paper, before gently plucking the photographs out of the album with shaky hands. “I’ll take care of them.”

Makoto smiles gently at him. “I know you will.”

Rin takes a few more moments to pull himself together again. Then, as if he didn't just burst into tears over two photos he's seen a hundred times, he continues turning the pages. He hums, tapping his lower lip as if in deep thought, before casually saying, “Both of your lives are really… really _intertwined,_ aren't they? I can't flip a page without seeing Haru’s face somewhere.”

Makoto chuckles. Of all the things Rin would say after an emotional moment. “Yeah, that's right. So many of my memories, good and bad, involve Haru, it’s pretty much impossible to think of a time before I met him.”

“That's not even possible. You guys have known each other since you were babies, right?”

“I don't remember, but that's what our parents told us,” Makoto admits. He eyes the photograph of him and Haru squatting side-by-side in the sandpit—which was empty after the other kids had dashed off in pursuit of the bunny—working on their own sandcastles. Not saying anything, but just being by each other’s side. “It definitely feels like that, though, like he and I were meant to be. I've known Haru for so long that trying to think of a life without him—it’s impossible. Like trying to invent a new colour.”

“God, you two are so sappy,” Rin grumbles, rather hypocritically (Makoto decides against pointing it out). “And you two _are_ meant to be—that’s what soulmates are essentially about. Hey, that actually reminds me of a poem. It’s my Australian homestay parents’ favourite one. They even have it framed on their dining room wall. Here, I have a photo.” 

He swipes through his phone and brandishes it to Makoto. The English words are painted in an elegant cursive over a silhouette of two clasped hands in front of a sunset, and the framed tapestry hangs regally on a pastel peach wall. As pretty as it is, though, Makoto is terrible at English. He looks at Rin with a silent plea.

“I’ll translate for you,” Rin says with a fond shake of his head. 

Makoto switches the TV off, since no one is paying any attention to the adventure the protagonist is embarking on. Even the bickering twins fall silent and turn to face Rin.

Rin’s voice lowers to a hushed, almost reverent, whisper, yet it still manages to fill the living room like he's speaking at the top of his lungs. His eyes are starting to glimmer again under the soft orange lighting, but the smile on his face is unmistakable. Just like Makoto, he is thinking of his own soulmate. 

Once he's done, Makoto takes a moment to process everything. He replays the words, spoken in Rin’s uncharacteristically gentle voice, and eyes the photographs of him, Haru, and him and Haru spread across thick pages. 

“Beautiful, isn't it?” Rin asks softly. 

“Yeah, I see why your homestay parents like it,” Makoto says, just as softly. “Thanks, Rin. I really enjoyed it. You like it too, don't you? You were smiling while reading it.”

Rin’s face reddens. “Not—not _that_ much. It just sounds pretty, okay? And I saw it all the time while eating breakfast there, so of course I’d remember it.”

Makoto laughs. “Sure.”

Between admiring photographs of a time long past but no less precious, listening to poems and trying to hold himself back from teasing Rin for crying over aforementioned photos and poem, any memories of Rin’s original purpose for visiting vanish from Makoto’s mind.

* * *

_“if you believe some things in life_ _  
__are simply meant to be,”_

**Age: 21**

Haruka is curled up on the teal couch (he wanted blue and Makoto wanted green, so they settled for teal because they kept trying to give in to each other and weren't getting anywhere with their furniture shopping), busy putting the final touches on his drawing. Competition season is over, so he really should get to his pile of assignments which has been accumulating over the weeks. But that's something to worry about another time. Right now, his priority is making this absolutely _perfect_ before Makoto returns home. 

And he's just in time, too. He barely manages to properly blend the colours in the corner before Makoto bursts through the door. Just one look at him and Haruka can tell how exhausted he is from a morning of back-to-back presentations, which Haruka helped with by making his PowerPoint slides pretty, and an afternoon of wrangling kids at the nearby SC. He loves his part-time job—obviously or he would have given up on his Sports Education degree two years ago—but Haruka knows how draining it must be for him. Luckily, Haruka has just the thing to make him feel better.

Haruka turns the drawing upside-down, slides it under a jar of Tim Tams from Rin, and gets up to greet Makoto.

“Welcome home.”

Makoto graces him with a tired smile. “I'm back.”

Haruka wraps his arms around Makoto’s neck and kisses him gently, while Makoto’s arms fit around his waist, their favourite place to be. The comfortable familiar groove of their ‘welcome back’ kisses is a definite far cry from their adolescent attempts at kissing. Makoto’s arms, strong as ever even after quitting competitive swimming, pull Haruka flush against his body, and even after all these years Haruka could still melt.

“Happy twentieth anniversary,” Haruka says, inclining his head up to lean his forehead against Makoto’s. That seven centimeters of height difference will never cease to annoy him, no matter how much Makoto insists it’s cute. 

Makoto’s face breaks into a surprised smile. “You remember!”

“Of course I do. Rin would kill me if I forgot something as _romantic_ as our first-meeting anniversary.” 

Makoto laughs. “Even if we don't know the exact date.”

Haruka simply shrugs. “My mother made an educated guess based on the photos taken, so I trust her.” 

“Fair enough.” Makoto presses another quick kiss to Haruka’s lips, but then something seems to occur to him and causes his smile to falter. “Oh, Haru. I'm sorry. I—I didn't forget! About our anniversary. I just—I was meaning to get something for you, I swear, but I—”

“It’s fine. I know these past few weeks have been really hectic for you. And you know I don't need gifts. Just being with you is enough.”

“But even then, an anniversary is a big deal. I want to do something special for you, Haru.”

Haruka rolls his eyes. “Then we can have sex or something later tonight.”

“Haru!” It’s cute that even though they are young adults living together now, Makoto still blushes whenever Haruka brings up anything vaguely sexual. “Besides, we do, er, _that_ pretty regularly, so I want to do something different.”

“We can try something different. Nagisa was just recommending to me this online store that sold some interesting toys—”

“Not like that!” Makoto yelps, the blush spreading to the roots of his hair.

Haruka smiles fondly at his idiot of a soulmate. “I mean, if you really want to do something special, I don't mind waiting. Like you said, we don't know the exact date of our first meeting so any day can be our anniversary.”

“I guess you're right.”

“Anyway.” Haruka pulls away from Makoto’s embrace and turns to the coffee table. “I drew this thing for you. You might like it.”

“You know I love anything and everything you draw,” Makoto hums.

Somehow, Makoto’s praise still manages to elevate Haruka to the top of the world, even if it’s over something simple like a drawing.

Haruka retrieves his gift from under the jar and hands it to Makoto, whose eyes widen. Haruka thinks it’s a neat drawing, one of the best he has done in a while. In the foreground, the four-year-old versions of themselves are in the sandpit back home in Iwatobi. Shovels and pails and other assortments of toys lie around them, but the focus of the drawing is in the center, where Haruka is holding Makoto’s hand and helping him up.

The backdrop was the part Haruka struggled with. He wanted the foreground to fade into something different, but he wasn't sure what it was. Since he didn't have classes last week, he took a train back to Iwatobi to get some inspiration. He wandered around his hometown, through old shrines and the beach and the shops that had been around longer than he'd been alive, before arriving at the entrance of Iwatobi SC Returns. 

As he watched the new Iwatobi High School swim team—now boasting of over twenty swimmers and two managers—practise their relay exchanges in the pool, the answer came to him. It was so simple, he nearly laughed at how stupid he had been to not think of it sooner.

“It’s amazing how you managed to draw all the details of the pool in the background, Haru,” Makoto remarks, sounding awed. “I never realised that's how I look like when I pull you out of the pool. You managed to capture us so beautifully.”

Haruka flushes. “Stop that, you're starting to sound like Rei. Also, I had some help from Gou. Turns out that she had taken a _lot_ of photos of us during practice.”

Makoto laughs. “That, she did.” His fingers run over the sandpit in the foreground. “This is really sweet, but why this place in particular?”

“Because that was where it hit me for the first time, for real, that you were my soulmate.”

Haruka won't ever admit it was Rin’s idea. The twentieth anniversary of anything is a pretty significant milestone. Even if he himself didn't care much for such traditions and celebrations, he knew something like this would be special to Makoto, so he wanted to do something meaningful for him. 

The thing was, he wasn't sure _what._ Fancy dates weren't their thing—too expensive and troublesome. Neither did they like grand gestures of love straight out of Rin’s favourite romance films, like lifting each other up to make out passionately in the rain or surprising Makoto with a trip all the way to Amsterdam to meet his favourite author. Their relationship was founded on simplicity, but even then Haruka wanted to make Makoto feel special and loved, especially on their twentieth anniversary. 

“Why are you asking me?” Rin grumbled through the Skype screen.

“Because you're a hopeless romantic. This is your area of expertise, isn't it? Sousuke told me about all the things you did for him for your anniversary.”

“I'm _not_ a—I’m going to fucking _murder_ that asshole when I return to—oh fine, whatever.” Rin rubbed the back of his neck. “Do something that will remind Makoto of, like, your first meeting or something. Oh wait, you two don't even remember that.”

“Yeah,” Haruka supplied helpfully.

“You're not making this any easier for me, Haru. I don't know—you’re good at plenty of things, like drawing and cooking. What does Makoto like? Chocolate cake? Bake that, and serve it to him while wearing nothing but an apron. Just make sure you have plenty of lube for what happens after that.”

“I did that for his birthday last year. And I had plenty of lube."

Rin snorted derisively. “God, you two. Let me think… You're good at art too—that’s your whole major, isn't it? Draw something for him.”

“Draw what? I've drawn plenty of things for him.”

“Then draw something you've never drawn before.”

“Real helpful, Rin.”

“You're welcome. Now, if you're done, I'm going to bed—”

“Wait!” Haruka lurched forward in a panic, nearly bashing his nose against his laptop screen. “I'm serious, Rin, I don't know what to draw.”

“For fuck’s sake, Haru,” Rin grumbled. “Ugh, fine. Draw something related to your first solid memory with him, or the first significant milestone you guys had. Something like that. I don't fucking know, I'm tired and I want to sleep and—”

An image of a sandpit flashed through Haruka’s mind. “Oh, _oh."_

“Finally got an idea?”

Haruka nodded. “Thanks, Rin.”

“You're welcome,” Rin yawned. “But I swear to god, if you Skype me at eleven p.m. again I won't be mailing any more Tim Tams to you.”

Haruka rolled his eyes. He knew full well Rin would continue sending his monthly supply of Tim Tams to Japan regardless of what time Haruka Skyped him. “Goodnight, Rin.”

“Yeah, goodnight. Tell Makoto hi for me.”

“Mm, alright.”

Just as Haruka was about to hit the ‘end call’ button, Rin added hurriedly, “Also, happy anniversary in advance. I'm really happy for you and Makoto.”

Then Haruka was left staring at the main menu of Skype.

For all of Rin’s grousing and cussing, his advice genuinely proved helpful, which is why Haruka is now able to hand Makoto the drawing which took him two weeks of agonising to finally complete. Haruka supposes he should make Rin’s favourite steak for him the next time he returns to Japan, as a way of thanking him.

“This was Rin’s idea, wasn't it?” Makoto asks with that knowing smile of his.

Haruka huffs, looking away. “Whatever. I still drew everything myself.”

“And you drew it perfectly. I love it, and I love you, Haru-chan.” 

“How many times have I told you to drop the ‘chan’ already?”

“Sorry, Haru,” Makoto says, not sounding particularly apologetic. But the kiss he gives Haruka makes up for it. Just a little bit, though. 

There is a pause, which Haruka uses to tidy up the pencils and crumpled up sketches on the coffee table. When he turns back to ask Makoto what he'd like to have for dinner, he notices Makoto’s eyebrows furrow, a tiny crease forming between them. There must be something weighing on his mind. Haruka doesn't say anything. He just focuses on slotting his colour pencils back into their original spots in their box, arranging them by colour, while waiting patiently for Makoto to speak first.

“Haru.” Makoto’s voice is careful, somber, as if about to tread into uncharted and potentially risky territory. “Even if this—this whole ‘voice in our dreams’ thing didn't exist, would we still be… be like this? Together, I mean.”

Haruka doesn't know what he was expecting—a breakup? Yeah, right, as if Makoto could find anyone who can make his favourite curry better than Haruka—but he isn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed by how anticlimactic it is. He sighs. “Where did this come from? It’s not like you to worry about strange hypothetical things like this.”

“Yeah, sorry. I guess I was just—thinking. Overthinking. Again.”

“It’s okay, I'm not upset,” Haruka reassures him. He pauses, considering Makoto’s question. The entire time, the worried crease between Makoto’s eyebrows remains etched into his skin. He alternates between staring at Haruka and glancing at the drawing in his hand. The gesture is so _Makoto,_ Haruka's heart melts. The answer is so clear, like a pool on a spring morning, he can't doubt it or second-guess himself. 

He precedes his answer with a gentle kiss to the spot between Makoto’s eyebrows. 

“Haru?”

“Look, Makoto, I don't need my dreams to tell me that you're my soulmate,” Haruka mumbles, his voice rushed. Actions are easy—it’s words that are hard. But for Makoto’s sake, he forces the words out. “That we were meant to be a part of each other’s lives.”

Makoto blinks, as if surprised, before murmuring, “Some things are just meant to be, no matter what?” 

Haruka peers suspiciously at him. Something that sappy—it’s not like Makoto to blurt it out of the blue. “Did Rin read you a cheesy romantic poem again while I wasn't around?”

Makoto chuckles. “Well, kinda, I guess. That one was from two years ago, though. I'm surprised I still remember it.”

One of these days, Haruka is going to have a talk with Rin about filling his soulmate’s head with stupid sappy fluff. But for now, he has something else he needs to tell Makoto.

Still feeling rather self-conscious, like he's speaking in front of the whole world, Haruka shifts his weight from one foot to another. Heat spreads from behind his ears down to his neck. “Yeah, like I was saying just now, if for some reason we weren't, like, soulmates—it wouldn't change us. You and I—we… we…”

“A soulmate is identified by a voice in your dreams, but a bond is determined by us—that’s what you're trying to say?” Makoto, always quick to fill in the gaps, suggests.

Haruka nods, relieved. “So you don't have anything to worry about, okay? I'm not going anywhere without you.”

Makoto smiles, the crease between his eyebrows finally disappearing. “Yeah, you need someone to pull you out of the tub to make sure you get to places on time and force you to wear more than a thin, flimsy jacket on a spring evening.”

“Sometimes I don't know if you're my soulmate or my mother,” Haruka grumbles with a scowl.

“That's kind of a weird comparison to make, Haru!”

“Your fault for acting like a mother hen all the time.”

“I mean, you're not wrong but that's mean!”

Their eyes meet, and they both burst into laughter, dissolving any remaining tension from Makoto’s original question. 

After gingerly placing the drawing on the coffee table like it’s a precious relic, Makoto settles on the couch and pulls Haruka into his arms. Resting his chin on Haruka’s shoulder, he trails light kisses along Haruka’s jawline down to the side of his neck, eliciting a small hum of contentment from him.

“Hey, Haru?” Makoto murmurs, his mouth still pressed against Haruka’s neck.

“Hm?”

“Nothing. Just thinking… I'm glad that twenty years ago, we got a chance to meet.”

A smile, as natural as the feeling of Makoto’s arms around him, blossoms on Haruka’s face. He turns his head and kisses Makoto slowly, gently, taking his time to memorise for the umpteenth time the taste of Makoto’s soft lips against his. No matter how many times Haruka kisses him, each kiss is different. It’s dynamic and ever-changing, just like the both of them. 

They were just kids who happened to meet because their parents were friends. Flash forward a few years later, they joined the same swimming club so they could swim together. From elementary school to middle school to high school, they grew taller and bigger; their voices deepened, and they learned new things about themselves, each other and the world. Making the big move from the small sleepy town of Iwatobi to all the lights and crowds in restless Tokyo, they have evolved even more and are pursuing their different dreams in different universities, Makoto to become a swimming coach and Haruka to become a professional swimmer. 

But at the end of the day, the roof they return to is the same, as is the voice like a comfortable warmth in their dreams at night.

“Yeah, me too, Makoto.”

_“then you have found your soulmate,_ _  
__your heart’s own destiny.”_

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! if you enjoyed this, please kudos and comment if you can! :D
> 
> i had loads of MakoHaru fluff that needed _some_ kind of outlet and this was the result.
> 
> fun fact! the part in the _Starting Days_ movie where makoto was like "i love swimming and haru-chan uwu", he switches back from _"ore"_ to _"boku"_. i adored that detail in the movie and i'll forever (ha) be upset that the English language can't capture it :<
> 
> you can find me on tumblr [here](https://hqissodelicate.tumblr.com/), where i screech into the void about sports anime and other stuff i find cool :D
> 
> EDIT: you can read random bits of trivia and my personal headcanons about this AU on tumblr [here!](https://hqissodelicate.tumblr.com/post/188035190087/hey-for-the-5-factsheadcanons-thing-can-you-do)


End file.
